Aftermath
by Validor
Summary: A hurtcomfort fic gone horribly realistic.  Heero is faced with Duo's weakness.  Can he handle it?  not exactly 1x2


Aftermath

Warnings: Aftermath of rape and violence, reference to (much, much) earlier 1x2.

A hurt-comfort fic gone horribly realistic. Heero is faced with Duo's weakness. Can he handle it?

There had been times, both in his mind and in reality, when Duo's body had been pleasant and desirable to Heero. The desire had been during the time of the Gundams, and the pleasantness was a product of the time they had spent working together and growing comfortable as friends. Now, the same slender body that had represented warmth and security and permanence had become everything vulgar in the world.

It was embarrassing. He stood black and blue and shivering in the shower, facing Heero and hunching over more from cold than modesty. The hot water soaked his hair and washed some of the blood from under his nose and his lip and down his legs.

Heero looked away. It was uncomfortable to see a teammate and friend so vulnerable. It was as if he had been stripped not only of his clothes, but also his pride, his laughter, his personality, revealing the skin and bones of his humanity. Weakness was laid bare, and Heero could not fathom weakness. It was not something he had ever had occasion to consider.

Duo, though…It was more apparent now than ever that Duo was weak, and had been his entire life. Glancing up, Heero realized a moment of guilt when he thought that at least some of the small, pale scars on Duo's body were his fault, either through his underestimating of Duo's ability on a mission, or through his own selfish desire. It was so easy to hurt Duo, and he had done it so often. With words, with sucker punches to the gut, and a million little times he had never noticed before. It was embarrassing to see someone, anyone, so helpless.

Because he was helpless, it seemed. He just stood there, letting the water fall over him. What could Heero say? He finally settled on, "Can I help you?"

Duo looked up, and there was the faintest shadow of the usual smile on his lips. "No, thanks, I can do this by myself. And the floor's getting all wet."

Heero didn't move. Surely the only thing worse than witnessing such humiliation would be ignoring it. Especially if Duo did want his help. For what, Heero didn't know. He had a vague idea of applying first aid to the cuts and bruises, but Duo knew how to do all that. Even if some bones were broken, which seemed to be the case from the bruises on his chest and the way he was holding his wrist, surely helping with such mundane injuries could only add to the humiliation?

"This hasn't happened in a long time," said Duo. "I thought I grew out of this."

Heero knew him well enough to understand that these comments would normally have been delivered with a smile, but the cut on his lip must have hurt too badly. Too bad he hadn't known him well enough before to have thought that they were true. Naturally, he had been operating on the assumption that Duo's sexual confusions had arisen, much like his own, from a chaotic childhood and the need to belong to someone, anyone, who looked as if they were going to be alive for longer than the next few minutes. Heero had never acknowledged, though he had to have known, that Duo's desires were even more primal—the need for food, clothing, a place to spend the night. It had never occurred to him that Duo's environment had influenced him through no choice of his own. The wars had created Duo Maxwell just as carefully as they had created Heero Yuy.

The shivering had stopped, and his shoulders had straightened a little. Carefully, he rubbed his face with his good hand and pushed the hair out of his eyes. "Is there any beer in this place at all?" he asked, lightly tracing the swollen bruise around his left eye.

Heero shook his head.

"What a crappy safe house. 'Course, it's just as well. I probably don't want to be shitting for at least a month." Duo smiled, and with the reopening of the cut on his bottom lip came a new flow of thoughts in Heero. Infection, sickness, possible mission failure due to incapacitated agent, possible death of agent.

"You should go to the hospital," said Heero.

"That's crazy." Duo had begun gingerly inspecting his various injuries, turning away from Heero as he did so. "And tell them what?"

"You don't have to tell them anything," said Heero.

There was a quick hissing sound as Duo sucked air in through his teeth. For a moment, Heero thought he was going to lose balance, and he moved forward to catch him. However, the danger passed, and a moment later, when he could speak, Duo said, "My wrist is broken."

"Go to the hospital," said Heero.

"No! They know I escaped, they know I'm alive, what if they're looking for me? What if they find you too?" He shook his head. "I'll take my chances."

The water hit the shower floor and gurgled down the drain. It seemed like there was something Heero could say, something he was neglecting. "Sorry you were raped, sorry you got hurt, sorry I ever thought you could handle the hell you've endured trying to be my friend, sorry you're not as strong as you try so hard to be, sorry I'm the one who had to see you like this?"

Maybe there was nothing after all. He closed the plastic curtain and left Duo in the shower, but he knew it was already too late. There was only pity between them now.


End file.
